Behind the Shot: Over the Pass
Sounds of Thunder Under Puka Punta
By Sam Bugas - August 2023
Ausangate Trek, Peru
Why “Behind the Shot”?
Behind the Shot is an opportunity for every artist or art lover to maintain an appreciation for what makes photography special. There is no right or wrong in art, although I sometimes struggle to accept this. Instead there is depth, or a lack thereof. With AI generating art at an unrelenting pace, and with the power of editing and composite work producing otherworldly, beautiful images, the key differentiator must be story. It is story that provides depth to every great painting. It is story that keeps us awake, next to a fire in the woods, gleeful for the opportunity to adventure. It is story that we must rely on to keep photography, in its purest sense, relevant. Behind the shot is where I will write about the stories behind my favorite shots, or vis versa, the shots behind my favorite stories.
The Location: Ausangate Trek, Peru
When I first began my love affair with backpacking, it was always a sense of scale that motivated my pursuits. The vistas, the towers of granite, and the expansive glaciers I was first exposed to, largely in the North Cascades of Northern Washington, built the bounds of scale for my imagination. In time, I would begin to look further, motivated by the idea that as grand as the Cascades could be, they couldn’t compare to the fabled ranges of Asia, of Europe, and most alluringly, of South America. South America may perhaps be best described by one word: diversity. There is no landscape that does not exist in South America, but it’s the great Andes Mountains that drew me in and will forever hold the greatest amount of my interest. Along the nearly 6,000 miles of mountains that compose the Andes, there are countless sub ranges that could entertain even the most consistent adventurers for several lifetimes. While I intend to visit as many of these ranges as possible, it was the Vilcanota range, home to Ausangate, that drew me in first. Ausangate, one of the sacred mountains of Peru referred to as the Apu, is the fifth highest peak in the country. To be an Apu is to be a mountain deity, of which Ausangate is one of the most revered. As the “creator of waters” Ausangate is expectedly one of the more heavily glaciated peaks in the country, but it is also its presence within the Vilcanota range that makes it so impressive. This trek was chosen due to all of the mountains that line the path around Ausangate; a path that ultimately took five days to circumnavigate. There were many high passes along the route, but it was the pass depicted in the photo above, on our fourth day, that revealed Puka Punta, the main subject of this photo.
A tent used by several other travelers at the first camp we visited.
Two of our closest friends on day one of our trek.
The Journey to Puka Punta
As with most high altitude adventures, the journey began in a city nearby, and for my fiance Emily and I, this city was Cusco. Reaching more than 17,000 feet of elevation midway through the trek, and over 16,000 feet within 24 hours of starting, it’s imperative for the vast majority of people to acclimatize before setting off. We chose to spend four days in Cusco indulging in the comforts of low cost, intense beauty, and relative position to the Sacred Valley. Some drinks were had, excessive food was eaten, and two days of road trips to nearby attractions helped us to improve our oxygenation such that we could handle the altitude when we began our journey. The Sacred Valley is littered with incredible hikes, historic sites, and ample opportunities to acclimate to the relatively high elevation. Emily and I chose to indulge in paragliding for a little extra elevation conditioning. Every step of these four days, though, was taken with the lingering sense of anticipation that comes with an impending epic. For the most part, neither of us had ventured into a journey anything like this. In fact, Emily had only backpacked on a couple of occasions leading up to our departure. To add to the spice factor, we were visiting the region a month or two before the normal trekking season. This meant we could experience anything from rain, hail or snow, to thunder, ice, and extreme winds, and without spoiling the rest of the journey, I can say we experienced each in excess.
The first part of our journey involved a chain of cab, bus, and truck rides that ultimately left us with our bags at our feet in a small town near the start of the trek. From there we wandered, accompanied for the whole first day by a local Quecha woman who was traveling to tend to the camp we intended to stay in. This day, and the following two, went as well as we could have hoped. Thankfully, expectations were tempered such that the time we spent in a cave hiding from flooding rain, or the intensity of running from thunder and lightning at 16,000 feet, or the time we spent fending off cattle dogs with rocks and sticks, didn’t serve to dissuade us from our goal. We may have entered day four battle hardened, but that doesn’t mean we were impervious by any means. In fact, neither of us had at any prior time in our lives, or at any point since, felt a sense of vulnerability, or even mortality, like we did at that point. Day four was the penultimate challenge, though, throwing us into 14 miles of pure survivalism. From the start of the day until close to the end, we were being tailed by the kind of claps of thunder that shake you physically and mentally. We could see the grey swell of storm that seemed to taunt us, moving just slow enough to let us progress beyond it’s reach, but always biting at our heels to remind us that if we were to get injured, succumb to altitude sickness, or run out of food, we would be engulfed in the kind of circumstances that don’t release everyone alive.
Pushed about as far as we could handle, and reaching a point near as high as any other on the trek, we found ourselves in near whiteout conditions. That is, until Puka Punta began to reveal itself, sitting like an impenetrable wall just beyond the pass. Emily set out towards the peak with a new fire-like energy. Sitting back, admiring the scene, and Emily’s intensity - I was feeling as run down as I ever have - I began snapping picture after picture, out of which this scene formed.
A local’s home, situated near lake Ausangate, very near where we spent our second night.
The Shot(s)
Standing in one place with highly variable conditions, this was one of the hardest moments to capture in earnest that I’ve ever experienced. In a sense, I feel I failed. The truth about this shot is that it is composed of two exposures. The frame is the same for both shots, and my camera didn’t move an inch, but while one frame would reveal the mountain, the other would shroud Emily, and vice versa. Holding the camera to my eye, I took dozens of photos as the cloud swallowed and broke apart the scene over and over again. It may seem like I feel negatively around composite photography, but that is not the point I am trying to make at all. I have rarely used composite photography, and so it is an uncomfortable approach, but I am grateful this photo is a single frame with two moments captured within it. If I were to have taken the shot of Emily one day and added a mountain from another day, it would not fill me with the pride that this scene does. So while I feel I failed, I also take solace in knowing that this was the best I could get in a moment filled with adrenaline, anxiety, exhaustion, and alpine fueled exuberance.
One of the beautiful lagoons located along the trail on day three.
The Gear
This adventure was one of true challenge. In many cases, I believe that nearly any piece of gear would do the trick, but this is not one of them. Considering the snow fall, the rain, the flooding, the cliff climbing, river hopping, and so much more that went into getting to this point, I genuinely believe having a robust, top of the line camera and lens served an imperative purpose. I could trust that whether I had slammed the camera body into a cliff, or drenched the lens in frozen mud climbing along one of the several 5000 meter passes, when I clicked the shutter, the best possible result would still resolve. This photo also required significant focal reach in order to compress Emily into the scene, making Puka Punta show in its true grandeur.
Canon EOS R5
Canon RF 70-200 F4 (the single greatest lens I have ever used)
Peak Design Capture Clip (if I didn’t have my camera on me, easily accessible, I would have never set down the pack to take the photo).
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest 3400 (I can’t explain how many floods, snow flurries, and hail storms this bag put up with to keep my gear working from start to finish. Go to https://www.hyperlitemountaingear.com/ and use code SAM15 to get 15% off the best gear known to the adventurer)
I have since changed my gear from Canon to Nikon. Any robust camera with a good weather proofed 70-200mm lens would have taken this picture well. Please, though, don’t underestimate the value that quality weather-sealed gear has. It keeps the camera in your hand when it would otherwise be stuffed in a dry bag or at the bottom of your bag with water damage. My favorite shots happen when my body is at the brink of destruction, and it’s here that I need to know my gear is going to survive.
The view from camp on our final morning on the trail.
About Me
I have shot photos for around five years, with a consistent focus on capturing moments of action and environment while I am outside. I’ve dabbled in quite a few different genres of photography, and I’ve found that my favorite moments to take a photo are when the wind is whipping, the air is freezing, and I’m hanging onto a steep slope or wall by crampons or an ice axe. The last year has been one of substantial change for me, though. I never considered myself an artist until I picked up a camera and used it for years. After some time, I’ve begun to accept that it’s ok to call myself an artist of some form, but is that enough? In the last year, it’s become clear that the answer is no; I’ve done little to tell or preserve compelling stories, and this leaves my sense of being an artist feeling hollow. For this reason, I have begun dedicating the vast majority of my time with a camera in hand to finding and creating visual stories that excite me, and hopefully you! Take a minute to let me know how I am doing in the comments below! Otherwise, I’d love to answer questions about the trek, my gear, the story, or anything else you want to chat about!